


With a Feeling I'll Forget (written by Vannah)

by SAMC_Inc



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, Past AU, eighteen - Freeform, except not really because they only kiss like twice but it's implied, relationship, song au, ziall fluff, ziall imagine, ziall smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-24
Updated: 2015-04-24
Packaged: 2018-03-25 14:25:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3813844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SAMC_Inc/pseuds/SAMC_Inc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zayn's been in love with Niall for a long time, but even now he's never really sure how it started.</p>
<p>Or better yet, a collection of moments in Zayn's mind that he's pretty sure lead to where him and his favorite blonde are now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	With a Feeling I'll Forget (written by Vannah)

**Author's Note:**

> This one is written by me (Vannah) for a short story contest (yes I changed the names, no I did not let my teachers read my fanfic) this is one of my best!

Looking back now, Zayn isn't quite sure what moments defined and shaped his and Niall’s friendship into something more. Maybe it was when they were both still seventeen, the cold December air reassuring that Zayn was only a breath away from coming into his own senility; his January birthday hanging over their heads with a curious glimmer of optimism, Niall’s own eighteenth not too far behind that. It was late on a school night, the Taylor home completely silent besides the random commotion spurting from the boys; the early sNip patterns of Niall’s parents, and his brothers absence shielding them in a veil of privacy. They're on the floor of Niall’s basement, the wide screen TV flickering through animated images of FIFA, a sharp witted boy by the nickname of Tommo vividly knocking his thumbs about the controller and catching the lead against the blonde host sitting at his shoulder. Zayn had lost all interest in the game, buried in his world of comic book superheroes and the disposition of a damsel in distress. He's curled into the side of the sectional, thin arms holding himself around his torso, his dark head of hair falling to the leather cushion of the couch. He swears he's slipping into a state of unconsciousness, but then Niall was kicking his neck to the side and offering him a smile, and he feels awake again.

"Did you hear him?" Niall questioned him softly, a blonde brow lifting in amusement. 

"Hear who?" Zayn’s brow is furrowing before he can remember that there's another person in the room. Tommo, he realized, the newest addition to the neighborhood, the oldest boy taking up residence with some of his loud college friends in the little shack on the corner of the otherwise prestigious street. 

"I just asked," Tommo started again, his characteristically scratchy voice stretching smoothly over his name, "how long have you known Niall here?" 

Zayn fumbled a little bit in his head, deciding to sit up because he's realized that both boys had suddenly set aside their controllers, expectant gazes locked on his expanding frame. This is new, he concluded, the focus on him. He hadn't known Louis for all that long, but he knew him enough to realize the guy practically fed off being people's sole source of scrutiny.

"I dunno, a coupla years?" Zayn stated, gaze drifting downwards until he was watching his sock-clad toes curl into the plush carpet.

"Since we were thirteen," Niall spoke, clearing his throat. The "h" in thirteen was somehow passed over due to his Irish rogue, the one Zayn fondly remembered being so drawn to in the first place. The accent caressed him into the world in which they'd started.

"Yeah," Zayn nodded, whiskey colored eyes rising and clashing with the ocean blue of Niall’s, "Sounds about right."

The blonde held the stare maybe a bit too long, and the older boy felt as though his thoughts could be swallowed up by the navy pools; like his every worry might be reflected, and then absorbed within the small flecks of green flashing around the expanded pupil if allowed. So Zayn is the one who pulled his gaze away first, allowing himself to sharply inhale and his heart rate to slow. He met the sharp eyes of Louis next, the azure blues peering up at him thoughtfully from behind his thick lashes. The raven haired boy's cheeks heated slightly, knowing the older boy must have caught on between the exchange, and was highly aware of the emotional tension there, even though the blonde the uncertainty was directed towards didn't. Zayn’s chest squeezed uncomfortably, but then Louis was flashing his teeth, the kind expression reaching out to the nervous boy and somewhat calming him. 

A subtle silence fell on the trio then, an unspoken "time to go" whispered amongst them. Tommo clasped his hands together, unraveling from the floor with a mention of how it was getting late. Zayn grunted in agreement, unwinding himself from his position as well. The friends traipsed upstairs, their footsteps and the incessant hum of the Arctic Monkeys coming from the oldest boy the only disturbances in the still house. 

"See you," Louis chirped once he had his feet stuffed back into his Toms and his jacket securely in place.

"Bye," Niall quipped, following him to the door and shutting the entrance behind him. Zayn watched the boy's silhouette retreat across the snow laden front lawn, his dainty ankles sinking into winter's crystals before pulling out and stepping forward only to repeat the motion. The rattle of keys drew the older boy's focus away from the window, his dark brow rising in question as he observed Niall slip his feet into Nike's, his lanyard dangling from his callused fingers. 

"What are you doing?" Zayn asked softly, tugging his coat off of one of the hooks next to the door and slipping it over his shoulders.

"Taking you home," Niall hums, shoulders lifting in a small shrug as if it were obvious what he was up to. 

"I can walk," Zayn muttered, toeing into his boots before standing straight again. A grin shaped the blonde's lips, the mischievous glint making it all the way to his cobalt depths as he stepped towards the older boy, flicking a piece of lint from the sNive of his coat.

"Nope, I've got you," Niall assured, leaning away from Zayn’s space to tug a sweater from the coat rack and pull it over his head, disheveling his thick locks. 

And so the older boy obeyed, following softly through the quiet home and sliding into the passenger seat of Niall’s messy car. Some boy band song from the early 2000s blares through the speakers, Niall tossing Zayn an apologetic expression before twisting the volume down. 

"No, I love this song," Zayn laughed, leaning over the console and turning it up again as Niall smoothly pulled out of the driveway. It's the Backstreet Boys, Niall realized, chuckling loudly as Zayn shook his shoulders and wailed along at the top of his lungs. The bass jolted their bodies pleasantly, vibrating the seats as the vehicle slid across the neatly paved streets, drawing closer to the Metzler house.

But Zayn doesn't want to think about that, how close they are to being home and this moment ending, doesn’t want Niall to park the car and turn down the music so they can softly whisper their goodbyes like always. Because right now, he's capturing everything he's never seemed to notice before this indescribable emotion took place in his chest. So for the moment, he just kicked his head back against the headrest and continued to laugh and sing, adoring the way Niall leaned over his steering wheel, profile lit up by the glow of the dashboard. The younger boy's mouth hung open in cackles, the size of his smile crinkling the edges of his blue eyes and Zayn can't help but picture what Niall would look like pressed underneath him, body shaking with giggles before Zayn would sweep down and take the sounds into his mouth, moving their lips in a kiss that would silence them both.

Then Niall’s swinging into the driveway, and Zayn is immediately saddened, but keeps the smile on his face because the blonde still has his, and when someone is looking at you like that, you can't just not reciprocate it. So Zayn’s unraveling from the leather interior of the car, the frigid December breeze rustling through the trees and numbing him slightly, but hardly affecting the warmth collected in his heart. The older boy felt lazy, intoxicated off of the shine in Niall’s eyes, the loud chatter of his laugh ringing in his ears. Love, Zayn decided, is what he felt whipping through his chest and extending out through his fingers with the need to lean back into the car and caress the underside of his best friend's jaw. But instead he stutters on that thought, hanging off the car door as Niall wiped under his eyes and silenced the stereo.

"Thanks for the ride," Zayn mumbled, teeth tugging on his bottom lip. 

"Thanks for the free entertainment," Niall hums, flicking his wrist over the top of the steering wheel. 

The corners of Zayn’s mouth edged up in a lopsided grin because he can't help it, shaking his head and closing the door before his willowy figure is stumbling to the entrance of his house. He twisted around in the doorway, briefly watching Niall’s headlights as the younger boy pulled out of the driveway. The sources of illumination swung around to dance along the front of his house before quickly dousing the dark headed boy in yellow light, fading quickly to black again. He erupted in euphoria, but the feeling of misery edged into the bottom of his gut to dull the vibrancy of his mood. How could he be feeling all of these strong sentiments while Niall appeared blank of any emotions at all? It was okay with Zayn, though; content to just be a friendly sentiment to somebody so special.

. . . . . . . .

Maybe the dynamic of their friendship began altering a couple of months before that memory took place, in the dwindling heat of September; the night Niall got the call. Maybe that’s when the pining looks and Niall’s urgency for Zayn to be heard began. This memory was incredibly different from the relaxed pace of the one they would experience in December, bittersweet to the thought. Niall was huddled in his bed, having given up on trying to get ahold of Zayn hours earlier, the unanswered calls and ignored text messages irking the Irishman more than anything. His phone then set idle in the top drawer of his bedside table, residing there in hopes of keeping him from doing anything too drastic, like completely blowing up the other boy’s phone. The just-turned seventeen year old didn't bother eyeing the clock, he knew it was the last few minutes of the night, if not already into the first moments of the next day. He wanted to sNip, needed to actually, but there was an unsettling feeling in his chest, dragging down to his stomach and anchoring him awake. He wanted to talk to his best friend, hear his voice, listen to him complain about his day in that quickly accented tone.

Niall exhaled deeply, stretching out his frame along the soft mattress, silently praying the hot shower he'd taken minutes earlier would relax him enough to guide him into unconsciousness. A buzzing noise interrupted his jumble of thoughts, the vibrations of his phone shaking the drawer it dwelled in, begging for attention. Niall was leaning over and yanking it open before he even knew what he was doing, his heart pounding when he saw the name that was flashing on his screen. 

"Zayn," He sighed, frowning slightly when he realized how desperate he must’ve appeared, the petty concern diminishing and being replaced with worry when a shuddering whimper sounded over the static.

Zayn breathed shakily, "Can you come over? Like right now?" 

Niall’s skin lit able with the uncomfortable feeling of dread as gave into glancing at his clock, 1:03 a.m. shining back at him in a green glow. 

"Are your parents up?" Niall asked, moving to hold his phone in between his shoulder and ear as he stood, looking for shoes.

"No. They won't mind, the door's unlocked for you," Zayn mumbled, half of his words muffled as if he was curled up in bed.

Niall’s heart clenched in worry, quickly assuring his friend that he'd be there before waking his mom and explaining the situation. He was at Zayn’s house in no time, the conversation with Maura and the quick drive blurring together in a race of collapsed time that he hadn't been able to capture. The only thing taking up space in his head was his best friend. 

The Metzler house was eerily quiet, Niall making sure to latch the door as softly as he can behind him. He tiptoed his sneakers off, quietly stumbling down the dark hallway, past Zayn’s sisters' rooms and his parents', hanging a left at the end of it to the secluded, familiar bedroom of his friend. Trembling hands close to a fist, white knuckles lifting to knock against the wood door softly before swinging it open and shutting it behind him. Zayn’s usually tidied room was the messiest it has probably ever been, a slight tornado of clothes and crumpled sheets of forgotten drawings scattered across the floor. The massive bed harboring in the center of the small space was neat despite it's surroundings, the curled lump residing under the heavy duvet the only flaw in the smoothed sheets and unwrinkled blankets. 

"Zayn?" Niall called out, hushed as he lingers next to the entrance. 

A whimper sounds from the sleigh bed, and Niall was moving before he could think, arriving at the edge of the mattress in an unconscious decision. The younger boy pushed back the blankets, Zayn blinking up at him with sad, doe eyes, dark eyelashes lumping together with tears. Niall grimaced, wanting nothing more than to take whatever pain the other was feeling onto himself, his own chest aching. 

"Can you stop looking at me like that," Zayn mumbles brokenly, disconnecting their gazes and staring at the dark wall behind his friend.

Niall ignored the quiet plea, gently nudging his friend to create space for himself and sliding in next to him. The blonde twisted on his side, folding his hands underneath his face as he watched Zayn intently. The raven haired boy blew out a breath, rolling to lay on his back. The duvet slid down to the older's hips, revealing a worn, long sNived tee that Niall faintly remembered as once being his own. Tears rolled down Zayn’s angular cheeks, collecting in his dark hair as he swallowed a lump in his throat and admired the ceiling. A comfortable silence stretched between them, Niall’s ears rushing with blood because he knew Zayn was gearing up to say something, and he was afraid he wouldn't be able to help with whatever had happened. But then Zayn twisted his neck, vulnerable eyes meeting the softened blue of his best friend’s and suddenly, Niall was feeling like Zayn gave him the power to do anything.

"My grandpa passed today," The older confessed, an influx of new tears gathering along his lower lids; a silent, transparent stream of wetness rolling down his tanned features. 

Niall felt his heart shatter, rendered speechless as Zayn’s thin body began to shake with sobs and his hands came up to cover his face, to hide from the younger boy. Niall sat up, scooting his back against the headboard of the bed before gathering Zayn’s lithe frame in his arms and settling his best friend against him. The raven haired boy curled against the blonde's shoulder, elegant fingers twisting into Niall’s sweatshirt as his head fell into crook of his neck, breathing in the familiar scent of Old Spice. Tears soaked into Niall’s skin, dripping onto his sweater, but Niall doesn't mind. He wrapped an arm around Zayn’s back to hold him closer. 

"S'not fair, is it?" The younger boy hummed into the top of the other’s head, soft, black hair tickling along his jaw.

Zayn shook his head into the comforting material of the hoodie, secrets suddenly spilling from his mouth in fragmented sentences. Niall concentrated on the thick accent, listening as Zayn emptied himself of regrets: the inconsiderate method of getting the news, how he didn't get to say goodbye, the way hospitals will forever be a place that make his heart drop and stomach churn. The older boy remained clutched in the blonde's grip until the sun was softly rising behind the curtains, and Niall felt like his entire body has gone numb from sitting in the same position. He didn't care though, continuing to smooth a palm down Zayn’s sloped spine as he stopped talking and shallow breaths replaced the sobs, his heart beat falling in time to that of the one holding him so dearly. Niall slid down the bed, taking Zayn with him as his head rested against the pillows, and he wrapped a blanket around their exhausted figures. They fall asNip like that, tangled together with tears staining both of their cheeks and chests rising in timed inhales and exhales. Niall and Zayn seemingly melted into one another, hearts meshing as one in the after light of sympathy and pain. 

. . . . . . . . .

Zayn would never be able to pinpoint exactly when everything began to change from friendly fingers to craving hands, but there was one specific night that transformed him and Niall’s partnership once and for all. Almost a year later in the vivid heat of July, Niall spotted a familiar face in the hometown pub he was illegally drinking at. The sculpted features were well known to the blonde, along with the perfectly styled jet black hair, but the ink snaking up the kid's right arm was new, in addition to the black studs piercing his ears. Zayn, he realized, had changed. Niall turned back to his beer, a pang of sorrow echoing throughout his chest. He wondered absently if all people were supposed to drift apart, or if this was just a harshly dealt hand of fate. He was not about to admit that Zayn’s decision to venture two hours from home absolutely crushed him, the loss of the stability he'd always needed indefinitely shattering him. Granted, they kept in touch constantly through technology, but that wasn't the same as what they'd grown up on, sharing memories within the walls of their houses. Ignoring the complicated draw of his thoughts, and with his Guinness freshly emptied, Niall twisted around and sought out his long time friend. 

This was the night, the time that Niall clutched onto with a certain fondness in the folds of his memory, when the younger boy had recaptured his attention-though it had never dissipated too much-and dragged him off from the bar to some party. Zayn had watched the blonde twirl himself around the spacious room, greeting people with a loud smile and sparkling eyes. A charismatic air followed him, enchanting everyone he encountered. He had them leaning closer to him, wanting to absorb as much of his energy as possible. Nothing about Niall had altered, Zayn decided, a grin tilting the corners of his lips as he hung back, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his skinny jeans and rocking nervously on his heels. Niall made his way back to him with raised eyebrows, hands occupied with two plastic cups, one of which he extended to the taller boy. Zayn accepted the glass graciously, although he had to admit he had no intention of consuming the alcohol it held. Niall did though, soaking up the drink in record time before downing four more. The mix of that, and whatever he'd had at the pub, sent him into a woozy, dizzying state of content. 

Gradually the party was changing tempos, the small gathering of people tripling in population before the conversations were being turned up in order for peers to be heard, a backdrop of music not aiding to quiet the scene. Niall and Zayn had been pushed to the back of a room; fumbled together on a sinking, leather couch while they spoke to each other quietly about menial things. Neither of the were about to ruin the moment by releasing their feelings. Niall’s head was tilted against the contour of Zayn’s shoulder, his head beginning to throb with the crowding of the room, eyes drifting closed to wish the other people away. 

"D'ya wanna go?" Zayn murmured softly against his ear, setting a concerned hand on the younger boy's leg.

The blonde nodded, and then Zayn was off of the couch and helping his friend to his feet before Niall could fully understand what was going on. They swayed together, Zayn relishing in the feeling of the shorter boy pressed against him. A flood of scenarios unraveled in his head. His heart clenched in memory of his whimsical crush, the one that was still there even after being gone for so long. His skin buzzed from where Niall was touching him. The younger boy clenched onto the soft, gray material of Zayn’s shirt; the raven haired boy's arm swung around Niall’s hips and drew him closer to his side as they stumbled through the crowd together. 

Niall’s stomach was twisting in a nervous feeling, claustrophobia surrounding him. He stuffed his face in the side of Zayn's neck, breathing him in and abruptly everyone is fading away. Memories flash through his mind of him and his best friend, one particular recollection of their second sNipover together sticking out in his hazy conscious. They were thirteen and shy again in Niall’s head He remembered how he'd awakened in the middle of the night due to a bad dream, his only solace the tiny boy sNiping next to him. The blonde inhaled again, absorbing the scent of his dearest friend, and he swore, he smelt exactly the same as he did that night five years ago. Niall knew this because he'd slipped closer to Zayn, right against his side. Back then, having the boy there was enough to conquer his thoughts and put his mind to rest again, just like it'd always been. Just like it'd probably always will be, if Niall could keep him around. Then the time lapse inside his mind was dying away, and the younger boy was focusing on the sudden quiet of his surroundings.

Zayn guided them through the empty hallways of Niall’s dorm building, remembering the location since having stayed over a few months prior. He dug the key from Niall’s left pocket, the younger boy too far gone to do anything but drape over him. They traipsed in together, the room vacant and dark besides the lamp glowing from the desk in between the two made beds. Zayn finally let go of Niall's too-warm figure, letting him stumble away and out of his shoes while he did the same, deciding to stay for a while. 

"You can sNip in m' bed if ya want," Niall mumbled, "Joshy boy is gon', I can sNip in his."

Zayn drug a hand through his thick locks as he stood in the middle of the room, watching his friend to make sure the boy could stand on his own without falling onto his face. Assured that this was possible, Zayn crossed the room to Niall’s mattress, carefully taking out the essentials buried in his pockets and laying them on the nearby desk before crumbling to the bed. He stretched his frame out, arms folding behind his dark head of hair as he watched the blonde mill about the room. Niall staggered out of his tight jeans, throwing off his tank top as well, leaving him in tiny, white briefs. Zayn feels like he shouldn't be watching, but he does anyways; it’s nothing he hasn't seen before, and he's feeling too drunk off of the sight of Niall's luminously pale skin to pull his whiskey colored gaze away. The older boy sucked in a gasp when the blue eyes met his, the dim shine of the light creating a soft, gentle glow within the navy depths that held Zayn captive. He was unable to move as Niall stalked closer to him. Zayn’s hands fell to his sides, head now fully supported only by the plush pillow as the younger boy erased the distance between them, crawling on top of the older in a flash.

Zayn froze, body going tense underneath the Irishman while two palms landed against either side of his face. Blood rushed in his ears, a slight acceleration occurring in his heart beat. Strangely, Zayn is utterly calm despite those things, breathing out shallow breaths and taking in the smell of alcohol and lemons as Niall hung above him with a lopsided grin.

"I like you," Niall hummed, giggling slightly as Zayn tried to keep still.

Then the blonde was leaning down, lids drifting closed as he brushed his lips against the rosy ones of the raven haired boy. Niall’s tongue peaked out, licking across Zayn’s bottom lip and Zayn gets the message, his own mouth opening slightly before Niall is twisting his head to the left and doing all of the work. Their tongues rose and fell with each other, and still Zayn remained rigid, only relaxing when Niall fell into him a bit, body softening against his.

And the kiss was nothing really, just a drawn out smooch. But Zayn can't help but think that out of all the people he's kissed in his eighteen years, only a handful, that this had to be the best even though Niall was a little slow and tasted a bit too much like beer. A moan tightened in Zayn’s throat, nervous and achy, like the two of them. His hands rose to find the bare skin of the younger boy’s smooth hip, one palm holding Niall there and the other fumbling to cup the back of his neck before the blonde pulled away. Zayn opened his eyes, surprised to find Niall’s cobalt orbs swimming with tears, regardless of the light smile stretched across his face.

"What's wrong?" Zayn whispered, brow furrowing as he caressed the underside of the blonde's jaw, like he’d only dreamed of doing before this night.

"You left," Niall mumbled, and this time the smile was gone and the tears were flowing, one of them falling onto Zayn’s cheek, "I needed you." 

Zayn stared brokenheartedly up at his best friend, never having figured that the distance would affect the younger boy as much as it had affected him. Niall dropped his head to the curve of Zayn’s neck, body maneuvering to the side and collapsing to lay half on, half off of Zayn’s. Tanned arms snake around Niall’s lean figure, Zayn holding on to the moment and his best friend rather that the confusion pulsing through him. 

"I love you," Zayn confessed softly. 

Niall became rigid in his arms for a split second before relaxing again, a shaky breath being exhaled over Zayn’s shirt. 

"I know," the blonde breathed quietly, "I've always known." 

Zayn squeezed his eyes shut, absentmindedly tracing a hand over Niall’s back. He wanted to believe that in a separate dimension of reality that Niall would have said it back, would have sat up on his elbows and shown the emotion Zayn was so adamantly feeling. But he didn’t, and so they laid there together, a mess of broken promises and confused hearts. 

. . . . . . . . . 

Three years stretch between that night and now, Zayn watching from the steps of his childhood home as the golden sun sunk farther down the pinkish blue sky; its dwindling light casting a slight shadow to everything. The few memories conjured up within his mind evaporate with the dissolving illumination; what was left to be reminisced fading into the sunset and ushering him into the presence of now. It’s the last weekend of May, whatever warmth that might have accumulated through the day dying with the advancing nightfall, leaving Zayn’s bare arms covered in goosebumps. A hand softly clasped his shoulder, a warm body folding to sit next to him on the concrete stairs. He doesn't have to look to know it's his mom, the familiar scent of her perfume drifting sweetly into his nose. 

"We're leaving," Trisha hummed, placing a hand on his back and rubbing in a slow circle. 

"Yeah," Zayn nodded, watching as his other family members pile into the green van that was stacked with the last boxes, besides the two still in his room.

"So just lock up tomorrow before you leave, and put our keys in the mailbox," She continued, evoking more nods from Zayn.

They’d been over this a thousand times since the moment his parents agreed to him staying alone at the house for last night it would be considered the Metzler’s. Everyone was excited to move, to gain the new space, while Zayn felt saddened by leaving the place behind them. He didn't particularly want to move on, the new house a city over seemingly too far for the twenty one year old to watch his family pick up and move to, afraid it might destroy a part of his roots.

Scared that it might completely cut all ties to the blonde he'd grown up in this town with.

"Do you think you'll see him tonight?" Trisha inquired softly, as if reading his mind. His mom had always been able to do that, perceive his actions and feelings before he even knew what they meant. She probably knew he was in love with Niall before Zayn did.

"I dunno, ma," The man answered truthfully, angling his head to take in his mother with a shy smile and sad eyes. 

"You should try," she cooed, brushing a piece of Zayn’s hair out of his face delicately, "You never know what may still be there, you can't let that go without knowing."

Zayn dropped his eyes, picking at the tie of his dark boots before answering softly. ”Okay."

Trisha stood, appearing pleased by her son's answer. Zayn unraveled too, embracing his mom in a tight hug before his family was pulling out of the driveway, leaving him solo on the front steps. The man twisted on his heel, wandering back into the quaint building like he'd done a thousand times before. This was different, this was the first of the last. Zayn trudged through the house, hand absently dragging along the now-vacant walls that used to hang with pictures of him and his siblings.

Empty, it was all empty, and Zayn couldn't help but feel a little desolate too.

Maybe that had less to do with the state of his home, and more to do with the fact that he could not stop thinking about the blonde down the street and how being home seemed to no longer hold any significant purpose if he wasn't spending the time with him. 

It had been three years since the unreturned "I love you", and three months since they'd last talked to each other. It was too awkward for the men to be around one another, trying to forget what had happened that night and push aside the realness of the feelings neither one of them wanted to acknowledge. Both of them didn't know what those three words meant, not with the way he had said it, truthfully and with his whole heart, but Zayn wanted to find out. 

He was outside, unlocking his car before he even realized the keys were weighed in his hands. He was going to Niall’s, he decided. Zayn lit a cigarette on his way there, the habit he had picked up over the years calming his nerves for times like these, where he was feeling with his heart rather than thinking with his brain. He flicked the ash out of the slightly parted window, driving around the block a couple of times so he could finish smoking before he made his grand appearance.

Unfortunately Zayn was pulling into Niall’s drive too quickly, his sweat ridden palms wiping across his skinny jeans before he was tripping up the walkway to the front entrance. He rang the doorbell, nerves making his heart pulse and blood race way faster than the should be. There was a voice in the back of his head: was Niall even home? Would he want to see Zayn? Why did he even come in the first place? He didn't have anything to say. Zayn turned to leave, but the sound of the door squeaking open had him stopping. He closed his eyes and prayed that it was just Maura, the Taylor’s mother, and he'd be able to make up some excuse. 

"Zayn," An unsure voice called behind him, one he knew better than the rest.

Zayn froze, eyes opening as he studied how the neighborhood looked flourishing under the last rays of the sun before he was twisting back around, facing the brightest star of his own galaxy.

Fuck.

They both stood there aloof, sizing up one another as if they hadn't seen each other in ages, because that's what it felt like. 

Niall’s blue gazed raked up the tan skin exposed by Zayn's tank top, admiring the ink that expanded across the flawless canvas he had made of himself. At least two new tattoos aided to fill his arm in a sNive. The boy Niall knew Zayn to be wasn't there anymore, all traces of adolescences gone from his face. His features had somehow filled out more since the last he’d seen him three months ago. His childhood friend, just like him, had grown into young man. 

Zayn stuttered under Niall’s scrutinizing gaze, nervously pulling his lip in between his teeth and trying not to admire the slight flex in the younger man's bicep when he went to adjust the snapback over his blonde waves.

"Do you want to come in?" Niall offered hesitantly, backing up a bit so he could open the door some more.

Zayn shook his head, stuffing a hand into his pocket and letting the other tumble through his already disheveled locks, "No. I mean, do you maybe want to come back home with me? It's the last night." 

The older man didn’t feel the need to explain the situation to the younger, knowing full well that Niall kept in very good touch with his family, even if that seemed to no longer include Zayn. Niall didn't know why but he agreed, pulling on his Nike's and letting his feet carry him to Zayn’s awaiting car. Hope rose in Zayn like an inflated balloon, batting underneath his skin as he tried to remain as neutral as possible on the way home while Niall was silent the entire way.

Zayn parked his car in the drive, unraveling from the interior and shutting his door carefully as the blonde does the same. He pocketed his keys, grabbing the pack of cigarettes from his console and took them too, suddenly needing an urge of nicotine. Niall followed him up the steps, growing confused when Zayn stopped in the middle of the porch.

"D'ya mind if I smoke?" Zayn asked behind hooded lashes, already moving to sit on the step.

"Why not?" Niall murmured, crossing his arms awkwardly as he watched Zayn flick open the pack and extract a thin cancer stick.

"Would you mind sitting down with me?" Zayn asked, flicking his brown gaze up at him and lighting the end of the smoke. 

Niall obliged, sprawling out on the space next to him. Their legs brush for a split second and Zayn closed his eyes briefly, savoring the feeling because he's unsure if they'll touch again. 

"Sorry," Niall mumbled, resting his elbows on his knees.

"Don't mind," Zayn hummed around his habit.

"Ya never did," Niall said, a teasing tone to his words. 

"Shut up," Zayn laughed, knocking his shoulder with the younger man's.

They chuckled together, but then it ends and so ensues the heavy silence that both of them have been avoiding the last three months. 

"I miss you," Zayn admitted, peaking at Niall’s shadowed profile while he shakes the ashes off of his cigarette. 

"I know," Niall sighed, eyes looking anywhere but the man sitting on his shoulder.

Zayn stabbed the cig into the concrete, creating a stub that he tossed to the grass.

"God, you have never really needed me," Zayn stated shakily, "Always so perfect on your own, isn't that right, Taylor?"

Zayn stretched into a stand, slightly hating himself for even thinking that this could have turned out right, that Niall, while so open with anyone else, could never his express his feelings for him. Niall stood too, blinking quickly as he realized what Zayn just said.

"Need you?" Niall whispered softly, eyes narrowing before his voice is rising, "You left, Zayn. I had no choice but to grow up and learn not to depend on you." 

"I came back, Niall. I tried to make things work," Zayn spat, refusing to be handed the blame on this one. 

"You came back when you wanted to, when you needed someone to pick you up. Did you ever think about how I felt?" 

"How am I supposed to know how you feel if you never say anything? I haven't heard a word from you once, Ni. Don't act like this is all on me." 

"Right, because telling someone you love them and then disappearing the next fucking morning is much better. I'd rather say it and mean it than force myself to and not." 

Zayn’s mind is wiped blank of his next argument, every ounce of anger leaving his chest and absorbing into the cold night around them. 

"You don't think I meant it?" Zayn whispered, tears gathering in the corners of his eyes before he knew what was happening. Niall’s rendered silent too, shoving his hands into his pockets.

"I don't know," Niall grumbled, bottom lip quivering with unspoken words and unshed tears.

"I meant it, Niall. I've been in love with you since I don't know how long, and I don't know if that's ever going to stop, even if you do leave here tonight wanting nothing to with me," Zayn admitted, feeling as though a weight had been lifted of his chest but a whole new kind of vulnerability growing. 

"I'd never not want anything to you, you're my best friend," Niall stated, and although it's not exactly what he wants to hear, it's enough, ”I can't say I love you because I've been falling for you since day one, and I still am," Niall continued, holding his breath and down casting his gaze while he waited for Zayn to speak.

"That wasn't so bad, now was it?" Zayn mused softly, taking a step towards the younger man.

Niall ignored the question, easing his arms around Zayn’s thin hips and pulling the older man to him. Zayn tilts the blonde's jaw up, capturing his lips in a tender kiss before it's quickly growing heated, Niall twisting his fingers into Zayn’s dark mass of hair before the older is backing the younger into the house. The door slams shut behind the couple, Zayn knowing the moaned "I love you" pressed into his neck has meant more to him than the amount of washed away memories made in his childhood home, a new beginning starting on the last night of his old one.


End file.
